


Snowed In

by Hawkeye_918



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dad Spy, Gen, Humor, Rated T for language, Sniper shoots a turkey, Team as Family, father-son bonding, lots of tomfoolery and a dash of feels, something for yall to read while youre hiding in the bathroom from your families on the holidays, there's a blizzard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye_918/pseuds/Hawkeye_918
Summary: This is my present for my secret santa for the TF2 Secret Santa 2019!A snowstorm gets the team trapped in-base for the holidays, and they decide to make the best of it. Meanwhile, Scout and Spy make an effort to get along.(Still as bad at summaries as always. Please read this.)
Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 158





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> In which Spy is a little less emotionally constipated and Scout is a little less hard-headed.

“... and so I regret to inform you all that it will not be feasible for you to return to your families for the holidays.” The Administrator said, her voice crackling over the TV.

“You’re kiddin’.” Demo said, in disbelief. 

“Unfortunately not.” She said, although she sounded exactly as unaffected as she always did.

It was two days before the team was meant to go their separate ways in order to spend a week with their respective families. 

However, a freak blizzard had struck Snowycoast out of nowhere, and it looked like no one would be going anywhere for the time being. They were snowed in.

Two feet of snow had fallen in the last twenty-four hours, on top of the foot that had already blanketed the ground. The wind had kicked up and blown the mess up against the doors and windows of the base overnight.

The snowdrifts against the doors had made exiting virtually impossible. In Heavy’s attempt to force the door open, he’d accidentally broken it off its hinges and sent snow spilling into the entryway. 

Soldier ended up zealously digging out a path with his shovel. Pyro helped by flamethrowing some of the larger snowdrifts.

Engie reattached the door to its hinges.

The temperatures had been consistently in the negative digits, and it was the sort of dry, bone-chilling cold that makes your joints ache and your fingers and toes go numb in minutes.

The roads were all closed, and naturally there were no teleporters set up at what would’ve been the mercs’ destinations.

“There will be a cease-fire due to inclement weather conditions. Hopefully you have enough provisions. Goodbye.” The Administrator said, and the transmission cut out.

“Wonderful.” Spy said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Spy wasn’t planning on visiting anyone, but he had been hoping for a week away from the team. 

“Do we have enough supplies?” Medic asked. 

Engie shrugged.

“Hey, why don’t we have our own holiday party?” Scout piped up. “We’re a little bit like a family here, ain’t we? A kinda messed up one, but still a family, right?” 

“Aye,'' Demo said, smiling and clapping Scout on the back. “Let’s make the best of this.”

“Sure, why not?” Engie laughed.

Scout looked out at the rest of the team, who agreed in one way or another.

The fact that Spy just sighed and didn’t criticize the idea was a small victory itself. 

“What do we do now?” Soldier asked.

“Now we make sure we have enough food so that we don’t starve.” Spy said.

“I’ll go do inventory on what we got. Mind giving me a hand, fire bug?” Engie asked.

Pyro nodded enthusiastically, and then followed Engie to the supply room.

“I will check if there is enough firewood for furnace.” Heavy said, and promptly headed off to do so.

The rest of the team began filing out to do who knows what.

Scout tapped Spy on the shoulder as he was turning to leave.

“Yes?” Spy asked, a bit confused.

“Do me a solid and meet me outside in like five, ten minutes? It’s kinda important.” Scout said, not making direct eye contact.

“Why?” Spy asked, immediately suspicious.

“Because. You’ll see.” Scout said. He was gone in the blink of an eye.

Spy wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

It was sort of funny how fast Scout could disappear. Just like his father, in a way.

Spy grabbed his fancy coat and matching scarf, and pulled on his fur-lined gloves.

As soon as he stepped outside, the chilly air went right through him and he instantly regretted the decision.

Scout was out there just like he said he’d be. He was clad in a beanie, a scarf that was no doubt made by his mother, thin wool gloves, and a jacket that looked entirely too light for the weather.

Scout had packed together a ball of snow, and was at present rolling it along the ground. 

“... what are you doing?” Spy asked, annoyed at what was sure to be a waste of his time.

Scout looked up. “Buildin’ a snowman.” He quickly looked back down and resumed his work.

“You’re building a snowman?” Spy quirked an eyebrow.

“No no no”, Scout said, looking up again and raising a finger, “ _ we’re _ building a snowman.”

“Goodbye.” Spy said, turning around and walking away.

“I was kinda tryin’ for a bondin’ moment, here.” Scout called after him.

Spy turned one-eighty degrees and regarded Scout warily for a second before walking back over.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a world-weary sigh.

“What would you like me to do?” He asked, resigned.

Scout grinned in satisfaction. “Y’wanna make the middle part? It has to be a little smaller than the base.”

“I am aware of the practice”, Spy spat.

Spy tried to pack a snowball together but it was too loose and fell apart as soon as he tried to roll it.

A year ago, this moment was just something both Scout and Spy would’ve thought impossible, for entirely different reasons.

* * *

  
  
  
  


Sometime in the early spring, in a fit of ennui, Scout had gone looking for someone to annoy, and had decided upon Medic. The good doctor was not in his lab, and Scout realized this would be a wonderful opportunity to snoop. One can only imagine where he inherited that urge.

He found the filing cabinet containing the team’s medical records and patient information packets, which was unfortunately locked.

The lock wouldn’t yield to Scout’s attempts to pick it.

Luckily, the filing cabinet opened itself up very nicely after Scout shot the lock off with his pistol. 

The bullet ricocheted and embedded itself somewhere in the wall behind him.

He flipped through the folders, trying to make mental notes of the interesting information he saw. Real birthdays, boring medical stuff, and the most interesting of all,

Real names.

Just by working with his teammates for so long, he’d learned a few first names and such, but now all that private information was displayed in front of him. It made him feel closer to the team.

Scout had eagerly leafed through Spy’s file, committing information to memory for future blackmail material.

“Pfft.  _ René. _ ” Scout scoffed, stumbling over the name, wiggling Spy’s file. Oh, he’d absolutely use his knowledge of Spy’s real name for leverage later on.

Satisfied with what he’d learned, Scout was about to shut the filing cabinet when he caught sight of his own file.

“Eh, why not.” He said, flipping through his file for shits and giggles.

Towards the front of the file, he saw a copy of his own birth certificate that he hadn’t seen before. The notarized copy he’d used for official things before just had his birth registered under his mother’s name.

He carefully pulled the piece of paper out and looked it over.

This copy had the father’s information filled out.

Scout squinted to read the information.

“ _ Oh, fuck no _ .” Scout said, tone disgusted, dropping the whole file like it had bitten him.

Those dreams he’d had, of being a toddler and seeing his ma and a man who looked remarkably like Spy sitting in his living room weren’t dreams at all. They were memories.

Twenty-something years of rage filled Scout’s being. 

He was going to find Spy. And he was going to beat the shit out of him.

“Hello?” Medic’s voice called suddenly from the hallway. 

Scout cast a panicked glance to the door he’d forgotten to close.

Medic stuck his head through the doorway to see Scout perched on top of the filing cabinet, papers strewn across the floor and a bullet hole in the wall.

“ _ Scout… _ ” Medic said through clenched teeth, turning redder by the second.

Scout froze like a deer in headlights.

Medic took a step forward.

Scout bolted past him and down the hall.

“SCOUT!” Medic yelled, pursuing Scout at a good clip.

Scout sprinted through the winding halls of the base, Medic’s heavy boots thudding after him. 

“You’d better have a good explanation for this!” Medic called, starting to get a little out of breath.

Scout skidded around a corner and into the rec room, where the rest of the team was enjoying their downtime. 

“You motherfucker!” Scout yelled, lunging forward towards Spy, who had been sitting peacefully in an armchair watching TV.

“Yes?” Spy asked unfazed. 

Medic reached out and grabbed Scout by the collar from behind and hoisted him up, like a cat picking up a kitten by the scruff.

“You’re my dad, jackass!” Scout shouted, squirming in Medic’s hold.

“Well, yes.” Spy said, standing up. 

No one else in the room seemed to react.

Scout paused to take it all in.

“All you knew, didn’t you?” Scout said, dismayed.

The team nodded in unison.

Scout sighed.

Medic lowered Scout to the ground and released his hold.

Medic reprimanded Scout and told him in no uncertain terms that he was never ever allowed to be in the lab by himself again.

Scout agreed readily, only half listening. And when Medic’s back was turned, Scout was readying to punch Spy in the stomach. Spy dodged, but just barely.

Soldier restrained Scout by the shoulders. “Nah, son, you need to go for the shins.” He whispered with irreverent glee. 

Scout grinned. 

“This is the sort of thing that should be discussed in private. If you please?” Spy said, gesturing to the hallway so that they may walk and talk.

Scout hung his head and agreed. He followed Spy into the hallway, and they soon left the base entirely, and stood in the shade outside.

Scout thought about the fact that he had half of Spy’s DNA and felt like he was going to vomit.

And they were gone for a few hours, with Spy explaining how he’d met Scout’s ma in a bar near the French embassy in Boston and fallen in love, and how he’d only abandoned them because he thought it was the only way to protect them, how he’d cut all ties with the hopes that those that might want him dead wouldn’t go after his family.

Spy elaborated that he had even gone to a few of Scout’s baseball games growing up, but in disguise, of course.

Scout spoke bitterly about growing up without a father, the feelings of inadequacy and rejection. He did not speak of the long nights staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep because he worried something he’d done had driven the father he’d never known away. 

Scout said that he would never forgive Spy, and he’d never call him dad, and he would need some time to deal with all of this.

Spy said he understood.

* * *

  
  


In the months that followed, the hostility (sometimes veiled, sometimes not) that permeated all of Spy and Scout’s interactions was replaced by cool indifference on Scout’s part and sheer denial anything was wrong at all on Spy’s part. 

Scout continued to ignore Spy, and Spy continued to watch Scout’s back in battle like he always had. Backstabbing the enemy Sniper before he could get that headshot on Scout, or waylaying that enemy Soldier, or conveniently leaving a health pack where Scout might find it.

It was only recently, within the last month or so, that Scout seemed to want to have a positive (or at least not antagonistic) relationship with Spy. It wasn’t quite father-son bonding time, and the attempts at pleasant conversation were awkward and unnatural, but they certainly were attempts.

Spy had missed out on playing catch with Scout, telling him about the facts of life, teaching him how to shave, and watching his boy grow into a man. Spy would be damned if he’d miss anything else.

Whatever it was that made Scout feel like having a relationship with his father, well, Spy was grateful.

Their snowman was really starting to come together, too. 

Scout had helped Spy put the middle of the snowman on top of the base, and Scout put the head on top of it. 

“Now we gotta give this guy a face.” Scout said. He picked up some little pebbles from the path Pyro had cleared earlier, and gave the snowman eyes and a mouth. 

“Do you have anythin’ we could dress him up with?” Scout asked. 

“Yes, I think so.” Spy said, exhaling loudly in what was not quite a sigh.

He took off his fancy scarf and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck.

The snowman could have it, for a few hours at least 

“ _ C'est magnifique _ .” Scout said, butchering the pronunciation, but with a happy gleam in his eye.

“Indeed.” Spy said, and smiled his first genuine smile in a long time. 

“Shall we go inside now?” Spy asked. He was freezing, he couldn’t imagine how cold Scout was. 

“Yeah.” Scout said, rubbing his hands together to generate warmth.

They went back into the base to see how the rest of the team was doing.

Soldier and Pyro were sitting on the ground, cutting paper snowflakes. Soldier nicked his finger with the scissors. He put his finger in his mouth, grimacing at the pain. Pyro was having much more success, and their snowflakes looked wonderful.

Demo was taking a nap on the couch. Heavy had gone out and chopped some more firewood at some point, and was now loading up the wood furnace in the middle of the room. Medic was sitting in the armchair working on his needlepoint. And Sniper was… somewhere.

“Hey, where’s Hardhat?” Scout asked. 

Pyro pointed to the kitchenette, which was the next room over, just through a little doorway.

Engie was standing in front of the counter, making a sour cream on wheat sandwich.

“What is the status of our provisions?” Spy asked. He tried and failed to hide his disgust at Engie’s sandwich.

Engie ignored Spy's disgust and shook his head. “We got enough for five days, if we stretch things a little thin, but hopefully the roads’ll be all cleared by then.”

Engie took a bite of his sandwich.

“Guess we won’t be having a big holiday party, huh?” Scout looked off to the side and scratched the back of his neck absentmindedly.

“Looks like.” Engie took another bite of his sandwich, and paused in thought. “Well, I figure we could have a nice big dinner, but then we’d really have to ration. We could make it four days, tops.”

Spy went to hang up his coat. 

Scout opted to stay in the kitchen. He took a pickle spear from the jar in the fridge and crunched on it, disappointed. 

The back door to the room flew open loudly, and a gust of cold wind blew in and carried some snow with it.

In walked Sniper, sporting a puffy winter coat, earmuffs, and homemade snowshoes. He had his rifle slung over one shoulder and a large game bag over the other.

Demo sat up abruptly, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He took one look at Sniper in the doorway and guffawed. “Well, if it isn’t Sniper Claus! What have ye got for all us good kiddies?” He gestured around the room.

Sniper grinned, his pointy canines showing in his smile. “I bagged us a couple turkeys. Figured that would help with our little food problem.”

“Sweet! We can have that holiday dinner after all!” Scout declared, emerging from the kitchen.

“Wonderful!” Medic said, clapping excitedly.

“So when are we going to have this party?" Soldier asked.

"The sooner, the better." Spy said, warily eyeing Sniper's game bag. 

After some deliberation, the team decided to have the dinner the following night. 

* * *

  
  
  


Sniper plucked and dressed one of the turkeys, but Heavy was the one who prepared it to be cooked and stuffed it in the oven, because quite frankly he was the better cook.

Demo found some candles in the storage room and set them out for ambience, while Pyro taped up the snowflakes they and Soldier had made. Medic was kind enough to lend his "Best Of Tchaikovsky" record, and he set up the record player on the crappy little folding table in the corner. 

As they waited for the food to cook, the team played charades, in two teams of four with Heavy as the judge. The game ended quickly when Sniper said he smelled something burning. This turned out to be the canned spinach on the stovetop that Scout had forgotten about. It was salvageable, thankfully. 

The turkey was served with the burnt, limp spinach as well as canned refried beans. Plain toast was also served, to no one's delight.

The meal was washed down with lemonade made from expired packets that Soldier had found somewhere. 

Engie had made a desert out of boxed brownie mix, a couple cans of Bonk!, and a can of cherry pie filling. Partially because he lacked the ingredients to make actual brownies, and partially because he thought this would be a fun concoction. The cake-esque thing was a little too sweet, but palatable. 

During the dinner, the teammates told funny stories about their families at home. Scout told the tale of a disastrous new year's eve party where two of his brothers were engaged in a fistfight in the hallway and one sent the other flying into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall with a one foot diameter and a deeply angry mother. That was the same party where Scout climbed in a trash can so his brothers could roll him down a hill.

Medic mentioned how as a child, he and his cousins all played different instruments and would give little concerts for their families. The kids weren't very good, but they always received a standing ovation nonetheless. 

Sniper spoke briefly about a family gathering that was rudely interrupted by two koalas loudly fighting in a tree nearby. It was hard to carry on a conversation with their screeching and demonic bellowing.

There was a wistful, homesick air around their gathering that no one seemed keen to address. 

But in that moment, in that toasty room, with good food and friends and laughter ringing out, they were sort of home after all. 

The table was cleared and the dishes were unceremoniously dumped in the sink. They could wait until later to be done. 

The Tchaikovsky record played on, now about halfway through The 1812 Overture.

The gang continued to sit around the table, joking and goofing around.

Spy quietly asked Scout to see him in private. Scout agreed, but said he had to get something from his room first. 

Spy waited in his quarters for Scout to appear, and when he did, he was holding an 8" by 12" piece of paper. 

"Uh. Merry Smissmas." Was all Scout said, holding out the seemingly blank paper. 

Spy flipped the paper around and his breath caught in his throat.

It was a detailed, beautifully drawn family portrait. Spy, Scout's ma, and Scout, carefully and intricately rendered in ink on decent quality paper. The three of them were smiling, and Scout had drawn himself wearing a suit. It looked for all the world like they were a family who'd dressed up and gone out to have their picture taken professionally. The Spy in the drawing was still wearing his mask. 

Spy held the drawing gingerly, very aware of the skill and craftsmanship that had gone into it and infinitely appreciative of the gift. He resolved to have it framed as soon as possible. 

"This is… incredible." Spy said in a voice just barely audible, still regarding the drawing with awe.

"It is pretty good, isn't it?" Scout said, punctuating the sentence with a nervous laugh. 

Spy laid the drawing down on the little desk in his room, the best place of honor he could give it. 

"Yes", Spy said, giving a nod, "it is." 

With trepidation mounting and his heart thundering in his chest, Spy hooked his thumbs underneath the bottom of his balaclava and took it off. 

"If you ever want to make an illustration again, you'll need a reference,  _ n'est-ce pas _ ?" Spy said, smiling a tad awkwardly. His eyes crinkled up at the corners.

"Holy crap." Scout said, unable to hold in his gasp. 

And he looked at the face of his father for the first time. 

The resemblance was clear in their features, especially the cheekbones and eyebrows. 

Spy's hair was light like Scout's, but with streaks of silver. Spy's age was just starting to show, and he had forehead wrinkles and a pair of crow's feet. 

Scout tried to commit his father's face to memory. 

"Is that what you wanted me to see?" Scout asked. 

"Not originally, no." Spy replied. 

And Spy reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a silver stopwatch. 

It was scuffed and scratched but was untarnished. It had clearly been very well-loved. 

Spy held the watch out daintily by the chain, and gave Scout an expectant look. 

Scout wordlessly cupped his hands, and Spy carefully dropped the watch into Scout's waiting palms. 

Scout opened the watch and looked at its face. The hands ticked on merrily.

Scout looked up at Spy in a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

"This is what I wanted to give you,  _ mon fils _ ." Spy said. "This watch belonged to my father, Jérémy, for whom you are named." 

"And now, it is yours." Spy added in a whisper.

Scout held the watch up to his ear to listen to it. His face lit up like a Smissmas tree. 

He closed it as gently as possible and put it in his pocket. The watch would be safely tucked in his dresser drawer as soon as he could get it there. 

"Thank you." Scout said, giddy smile but solemn tone. 

"That watch survived two world wars. I just hope it can survive  _ you _ ." Spy said, only half-joking, pointing an accusatory finger at Scout. 

Scout rolled his eyes, but laughed. 

Raucous yelling from outside caught their attention.

Scout ran to the window to see, and Spy deftly pulled his mask back on before doing the same. 

Fresh snow was falling from the sky as placidly as you please, and the rest of their team was having a helluva snowball fight outside. 

Soldier fell flat on his face after getting hit in the back by a snowball from Heavy. Demo proceeded to fall flat on  _ his  _ face because he was so engrossed in laughing at Soldier, he slipped on a patch of ice. 

It looked like a blast. 

"Wanna join 'em?" Scout asked, smiling devilishly. 

"Absolutely." Spy said, sporting a similar expression.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos/ comment if you enjoyed! Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa! Wishing you all a happy, safe, and prosperous new year and may the new decade be great for you!
> 
> Have a nice day! <3


End file.
